Bleeding Hearts
by abby hope
Summary: The day I put on the Sorting Hat as a first-year at Hogwarts was the day that changed my life...for the worse. Or did it have the potential to change the course of the war against Voldemort...and my life as the rebellious loner? I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.
1. Old Memories

**Chapter One: Old Memories**

The headmaster's office. I guess I'd always known, deep down inside, that it would come down to this. I should have seen it coming. My sisters had always been perfect students - they never got into trouble. But me...well, from day one it seemed that I was a misfit. Out of step with my family, my classmates, and the world in general.

Oh, I hadn't always been a troublemaker, but I always seemed to want the things I couldn't have. And I didn't have the wit or tact or charm to break the rules and get by unscathed. I knew of kids from every house whose exploits were legendary. Even Harry Potter, whom Professor McGonagall always held up as a model student, had done more than his fair share of mischief. Everyone knew that. And he got away with it...why? All because he had survived a killing curse cast by the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time...that and the irritating fact that he was always right, to an alarming and annoying degree. While I was the resident rebel, the odd child out in a poor but respectable family.

The day I put on the Sorting Hat as a first-year at Hogwarts was the day that changed my life...for the worse. Every little detail of that day six years ago was etched in my memory forever, perfect snapshots of a time that I only wanted to forget.

Professor McGonagall reading my name backwards from a long list, "MACINDAW, MADISON!"

The sudden prickle that went up my spine as the Sorting Hat's voice whispered unexpectedly in my ear, "Unique...ambitious...smart...could be Ravenclaw..."

What? My sisters had both been Gryffindors, like my parents and grandparents before them. My best friend, Emmett Burns, also came from a Gryffindor family. Emmett was already standing on the Gryffindor benches, craning his neck to look over the crowd of kids at me, sitting tiny and scared in the center of everyone's gaze.

"Could be Ravenclaw, but...no...SLYTHERIN!" the Hat finally finished its monologue.

I sat frozen where I was.

A few faces stood out in my memory.

My lovely fourth-year sister Alysia, clapping both hands over her face in mingled shame and shock, and bursting into hysterical sobs.

The sound of splintering wood as a blonde-haired girl dropped her old-fashioned trunk where she stood in line with the remaining first-years. It burst open and all her clothes and textbooks spilled everywhere, but nobody was paying attention. They were all staring at me. Me, the prodigal Slytherin.

The startled "O" shape of Emmett's mouth as he registered what had happened. And then his familiar tousled dark head disappearing as he fell right off the bench in his surprise.

They read the next name, "MALFOY, DRACO!" but I couldn't move. My fingers were locked around the edge of the stool as I stared forward blankly, trying to process what I had just heard.

And then the crowning indignity - the kid at the front of the line, a tall, thin boy with pale blonde hair falling over one eye and a mocking sneer on his lips, stepped forward and gave me a rough shove.

Hitting the hard, cold floor did snap me out of my daze. The first thing I heard was the Malfoy boy's high laughter as he clambered onto the stool and jammed the Hat down onto his own head. It only took a moment this time for the answer to come back - "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy laughed again and looked down at me triumphantly as if to say, "You're stuck with me for the next seven years of your life, so enjoy them!" I looked into that handsome, haughty face and knew in an instant that I would never forgive him. Never. Even if it killed me. I had made an enemy...the first of many, it would seem, judging by the place I was standing now.

I sighed and my shoulders sagged. If Draco Malfoy did not exist, I would not be standing here in front of Professor Dumbledore's office at this moment. I knew I would hate him till the end of time.

Behind me there was a stifled sneeze. I whirled around, but just then, the stone gargoyles began to move and a voice inside called, "Come in."


	2. True Confessions

**Chapter Two: True Confessions**

"Have a seat, Madison," Professor Dumbledore told me politely, motioning toward a huge old-fashioned chair opposite his desk. He turned to a dark-haired boy who stood with his back to me, apparently engaged in examining a basin of some cloudy liquid. "I am afraid that is all for today, Harry. We have a visitor."

The boy turned and looked at me and I realized it was Professor McGonagall's favorite himself, the Boy Who Lived. "Hey," he said a bit awkwardly, putting down the basin and looking curiously at Dumbledore. I didn't see much of Harry Potter; he tended to stick with his close group of Gryffindor friends. Emmett had several classes with him and said that he seemed a nice fellow, but then again, Emmett had been hanging around with that odd Ravenclaw girl, Luna Lovegood, a lot lately, so maybe he wasn't any judge.

"Harry, this is Madison Macindaw. You know Harry Potter, don't you?" Dumbledore asked, rather pointlessly it seemed to me.

I frowned and tossed my short spiky blonde hair. "Do I have a choice these days? Who doesn't?"

Potter's forehead creased. Either he was irritated by my obvious sarcasm or he wasn't as keen on being a celebrity as Pansy Parkinson made him out to be. Not that I cared what Pansy said about anyone. She followed Draco Malfoy around like a sick puppy. Lately, too, she'd been nastier than usual to me, for reasons I couldn't imagine.

"I guess I'd better be going, Professor," Potter excused himself. Nodding to me, he turned and left the room, shutting the door.

I looked around the room disinterestedly as Dumbledore carefully levitated the basin onto a pedestal in a closet. Nothing new to see here. I had been here too many times to count, half the time for my increasingly poor grades and the other half for "disrupting class" and "displays of temper" in Defense against the Dark Arts which were all the more provoking because the person...guess who...who always got me mad happened to be Professor Snape's favorite student and thus never got turned in.

"At least I'm good friends with Fawkes," I mused wryly, staring at the colorful phoenix on his perch at the other end of the room.

"So, Miss Macindaw, I am informed that you..." Dumbledore referred to a note in his hand as he resumed his seat, "...it seems that you Transfigured Draco Malfoy's pen into a snake in Potions this afternoon."

I couldn't completely stifle the chuckles that exploded out as I remembered the high-pitched, surprised squeal of my nemesis as he dropped the wriggling thing like a red-hot iron. Unfortunately, I had not been fast or stealthy enough hiding my wand and Pansy, who I had the bad luck of sharing a desk with, had immediately shot her hand into the air to point me out to Professor Slughorn. "Yes, sir," I admitted, trying to keep a straight face and not act too proud of my prank.

"I am afraid that warrants at least a detention with your Potions professor, Madison. You do know that you broke the rules, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," I said again, dryly. "I...I broke the rules...intentionally, Professor. Draco put essence of arugula into my potion."

"Essence of arugula?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and for a minute I thought I imagined a hint of a boyish grin flickering across his face. "Did you see Mr. Malfoy do this?"

"No...I...I didn't..." I blushed and stammered. "But I know it was him. He was laughing at me after the potion exploded. Professor Slughorn made me clean it up all by myself. Pansy didn't even have to help because she told him she saw me put it in!"

"That is unfortunate. If you had evidence you would have actually been required to report Mr. Malfoy's assumed interference with your work. Regardless, though, it hardly qualifies as an excuse. Your teacher was fully justified in sending you here."

"I know, sir."

"Promise me it won't happen again and I will give Professor Slughorn a note to that effect. You will not need to serve detention."

"Well..." I bit my lip, mentally going over the litany of pranks I had already prepared for the next time Draco annoyed me. Some of them were sure to fail and I would end up back here again anyway. On the other hand, my attendance at Hogwarts was definitely on the rocks. My parents, already distant after my unfortunate Sorting, would hardly forgive me for being placed in Slytherin if I turned into a juvenile delinquent witch. "I've made it this far," I decided, "I won't let Draco Malfoy get me kicked out. No point in that."

"Yes, Professor. You have my word." I looked him in the eyes to make sure he knew I was serious.

"Good decision, Miss Macindaw." Dumbledore's blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "You may go now."

As the stone gargoyles closed behind me in the hallway, I stopped to think for a moment and reconsider my sudden promise. Would I be able to keep it with Draco and Pansy playing tricks on me every day?

Behind me and to my left there was another strangled sneezing noise. I froze.

"Watch yourself, you great bungling idiot!" someone snapped in a harsh whisper.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" apologized a second person, even louder.

"Who's following me?" I yelled in irritation.

In answer there was a sudden commotion and the sound of footsteps retreating around the corner. I dashed to the next open doorway and peered down, but all I saw was a pair of black boots disappearing around the bend in the hall.


	3. Passing Notes

**Chapter Three: Passing Notes**

"I will not fall asleep," I repeated mentally, forcing my eyes to focus on my history textbook. "I am not tired. This room is not warm. I did not stay up till midnight last night trying to figure out who was following me yesterday. The sun is bright outside and I have a whole day ahead of me. Professor Binns is the most interesting teacher at school. I mean, he's a ghost! How cool is that? That means he's actually...he's...he's dead..."

I could feel my thoughts growing heavy inside my head. "Focus! Focus! Focus!"

It was only when Draco Malfoy turned his head and fixed a satirical stare on me that I realized I was actually whispering aloud to myself. I shook my head to clear it and he turned back to his book, his hand sliding to cover a poorly disguised smirk. My eyes narrowed and I found myself reaching for my wand but stopped in the act as I remembered my promise to Dumbledore. I gritted my teeth in frustration. Whatever. Let Draco enjoy his stupid laugh. Maybe if I could stay mad enough at him, it would keep me awake...maybe...

_Fat chance of that_, I realized as everything began to blur together again.

"Something bugging you?" said a low voice from across the aisle.

My head jerked up as if on marionette strings. The world swam into focus and I saw that Draco was looking at me again, this time with an undisguised grin on his pale face. "Shut up," I replied in what was supposed to be an angry hiss, but came out more as a sleepy mumble.

He shrugged his shoulders and slouched back into his seat, his immaculately tailored black dress coat draped loosely over his shoulders. I stared at Professor Binns again, wondering what it must be like to have to wear the same outfit every day, the same clothes you died in, in fact...ugh. I wrinkled my nose at the thought.

Something hit my arm. It was a note, folded into a paper airplane. I unfolded it; in neat, elegant, aristocratic script, it read:

_How was your chat with old Albus Dumbledore?_

Why was Draco bothering me? Couldn't he tell he irritated me...or was that the whole point? I screwed up my face and scrawled across the page:

**I already told you to shut up. Leave me alone.**

Then I threw it back at him as hard as I could, resisting the urge to watch his face as he read it. Ten seconds later the paper was back in my lap again.

_I know, it was about your grades, wasn't it. No wonder you're so sore over this._

_What an idiot!_ I thought. _He knows why I was sent to Dumbledore, and it wasn't for my grades...this time._ This time it was all his fault.

**My grades are better than yours!**

I was nearly certain that wasn't true, but I couldn't think of anything better to say. I chewed on my pencil for a while. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that he was staring at me expectantly, waiting for my reply, so I turned unexpectedly and chucked the paper airplane straight at him.

Two things happened at once. Surprisingly considering my general clumsiness, the flying note hit Draco right between the eyes. However, my elbow jabbed into sleeping Pansy Parkinson's shoulder and she sat up and spat crossly, "What's the matter with you?" in a not-so-quiet voice. I couldn't help giggling at her tousled hair and flushed face, which only made her more piqued at me.

And then Draco laughed.

It was a full, rich laugh, as if he was appreciating a good joke. A surprisingly pleasant sound, actually. I had never heard him laugh before. Or seen him smile, for that matter. The closest thing to a smile that ever crossed his face was that haughty sneer he often gave when looking in my direction. But this was no sniveling, sarcastic snicker.

Everyone on my side of the room who was still awake swiveled their heads in our direction in unabashed curiosity. Because nobody had ever heard Draco Malfoy laugh like this. For a moment, even Professor Binns stopped his droning monologue as if he was actually interested in something for once.

But it only took a moment for the magic of that laugh to be broken. He was making fun of me...again. What else was new? First he bothers me by passing notes, then he makes a me a laughingstock in front of the whole class. "I guess he wins this round," I muttered to myself, "but see if I can't find a way to get back at him without breaking my promise."

Life went back into its old monotonous channels; Pansy "accidentally" ground her heel into my toe under the desk with great vehemence; Professor Binns resumed his dry-as-bones lecture and the air grew warm and sleepy again. But out of the corner of my eye...I could have sworn I saw Draco wink at me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Emmett's Advice**

After the odd incident with Draco, I was in such a hurry to get out of History that I dropped my book and wand as I nearly collided with a tall, powerfully-built man waiting at the door. "Sorry," I mumbled as I bent to pick up my things, but the man only gave me a cross look and, with one swift kick, sent my textbook spinning across the floor.

It hit Draco's foot and he picked it up and jammed it into his bookbag. I scrambled for my wand and and yelped, "Accio!" just before he zipped the bag closed but the tall man reached over my head and grabbed the book right out of my hands.

I jumped to my feet angrily at this unwarranted interference. "What are you doing with my book?" I fumed, ignoring the stern no-nonsense look on his face. In answer he just opened the book and held it up for me to read.

"It doesn't seem to be your book, now does it?" The tall man raised an eyebrow at me. Sure enough, the title page read, "Property of Draco Malfoy."

I spun around. "What in the name of Merlin's beard did you do to my-"

"DRACO!" the tall man's booming voice interrupted me.

Across the room, Draco visibly stiffened. "Father? What are you doing here?"

"No questions. Just come along and don't dawdle."

Judging by the disgruntled look on his face, Draco was not especially fond of his father's "no questions" line. I took care to give him one of his own patented smirks as he stalked out of the room and he shot me an unusually ferocious frown in return.

In the hallway just outside I recognized Emmett's voice coming from the center of a knot of Gryffindor girls. He was telling another of his fantastic imaginative tales, I knew. His favorite stories were about the Muggle world and its quaint customs and odd contraptions, and he loved to recite them over and over again to anyone who would listen. I was sure that half of his ideas were based on something less than fact, but they were still interesting to listen to, and he had a loyal audience in the first- and second-year girls in his house. I hurried on, hoping Emmett might not notice me because I had a feeling he would want to talk...probably for a long time. And I had to get my textbook back before Mr. Malfoy and Draco left the grounds altogether, not to mention that I wanted to get in my precious hour of personal Quidditch training before my free period ended. But sure enough, as I scurried past, I heard his familiar voice - "Hey Madison, wait up!"

"I don't have time to talk," I called over my shoulder, breaking into a run and dodging students on their way to class, straining to see Draco's father's head as he turned the corner up ahead. "Someone stole my textbook and I need to get it back!"

But five seconds later I felt a tug on my robe and Emmett was right behind me, almost treading on my heels. "Maybe she just needs some convincing from a practiced orator," he grinned.

"It's not a girl," I replied, rolling my eyes. "And he's actually more thick-skulled than you, if you can imagine that."

Emmett shrugged good-naturedly. "You'll definitely need some backup then. Long time no see, by the way."

I frowned a little. "Sorry, bro. I've been busy, trying to...you know...improve my grades. And stay out of trouble with Professor Snape."

"I wouldn't have imagined you'd have much of a problem with Snape, what with him being your head of house," Emmett said in surprise.

"I don't fit in with everyone else in Slytherin. And Draco Malfoy...well, he's Snape's pet student...and he hates me. So Snape basically sees me as the troublemaker of my class. Draco pretty much runs wild and does what he likes except when Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall is around. Today his father showed up after History and dragged him off and one of them has my textbook. I barely have an A in History as it is; I need that book to study tonight." I picked up my pace a bit as we scaled another winding corkscrew staircase.

"That was lovely of him," Emmett commented sarcastically. "Everyone's favorite prefect, isn't he?"

"Actually, I can't make up my mind whether he or Pansy Parkinson is worse," I groaned. "Sometimes she strongly reminds me of a female version of You-Know-Who...only uglier."

Emmett chuckled. "You're not the first to wonder."

I was sure the next class had already started; the hallways were nearly empty now. "Dang it," I muttered. "I'm not going to get much Quidditch practice done today."

"You're really serious about getting Draco's spot, aren't you?" Emmett raised an eyebrow.

"He's not very good at what he does. It would be simple enough if he didn't feel it necessary to bribe the captains for five years straight to make sure he makes the team. He doesn't even deserve to be the reserve Seeker and I'm tired of playing second fiddle to someone who charms his Quidditch shoes to stick to his broom just so he won't fall off."

Emmett burst into spasms of laughter. "So the stories are true, are they?"

I grimaced. "Not anymore. Madame Hooch caught him. It's against the rules...hey...where on earth did they go?"

There was no door in the wall in front of us. We had come to a dead end. Emmett and I stared at each other, our faces about as blank as the face of the wall. Then it hit me. "Wait...I think I know where we are..."

I reached into my bookbag for my old, beat-up school map, but instead, my fingers closed over something hard and smooth...a book binding. Only I didn't remember packing anything other than my history book this morning. I frowned and pulled the book out. Sure enough, it was a history textbook. I flipped to the title page and read my name, and a scrap of paper fluttered down to the floor.

"What the...how on earth did it get in here?" I exploded in confusion. "Did he put it in when I wasn't looking?"

"I guess so. That's odd," Emmett commented, stooping to pick up the paper and unfolding it. "Wait...what?"

"What?" I asked curiously, leaning over his shoulder to read the short note aloud.

_Madison. meet me in the common room at ten o'clock tomorrow night. D. Malfoy._

I stared at it, unbelieving. "He does love to order people around, doesn't he? But what does he want to do with me?"

"I don't know," Emmett replied, shaking his head slowly, "but I wouldn't be in the common room at ten if I were you."


End file.
